Rural Dreams

    07-Nov-2020
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M Minakshi Devi
Born a city girl, fed on loneliness and hyperactive life,
Of all the running,merely catching up on breathe.
High rise edifices,complex settlements and golden dreams of many,
My mind flew away the urban buzz afar from city screams.
I halt by the countryside where the bleached crops stretch,
Where I smell the dense mist,where merry winds thump my chest.
The prairie cornfield, orange and tawny gold clusters
Of pumpkin,melons and gourds basking the Sun,
Where cotton ,fields out spread as any eastern snow,
Where nymphs with brown eyes without a trace of fear
Are seen to draw water from well 100 feet steep.
Beauty so sudden,for that time of the year.
It's a bucolic sight and emancipation from bizarre city.
The peepul tree grows in silence against rapture ground,
Beside the low mud walls of a house.
Carefully I cross the palm trunk overpass above the irrigation canal
And grave,green water flow on,creating ripples.
I walk the muddy lane of the village, open whichever door pleases,
To find beautiful statues,strange guest,mirrors and hay laden ceilings.
By the dusk the light are low and air so sweet,
Whilst people greet Ram!Ram! in quite a civil tone.
An evening bulletin slyly heard from a radio in distance,
And aroma of vegetable broth for dinner explode in the air.
I walked the night,till I stumbled upon the fence,
Where the rural end,beyond would be the real city.
The gargantuan chaotic city of huge super highways and skyscrapers,
And stories of the city night,which seemingly go on forever.